PTSD and a Breakdown
by ElizabethWriter
Summary: When a training drill goes wrong, memories come back to haunt Sam. The team is there to catch him.


Breakdown

Jules stood behind Sam, covering him as he lined up a shot. Sam's finger squeezed the trigger just as he saw movement enter his pinpoint-line of vision.

Spike.

He had come from behind a structural column and had no idea of Sam's position. Sam had no way of knowing he was about to walk into his gunfire.

It hit Spike square in the back, sending him sprawling forward onto his stomach with an involuntary gasp. Sarge called for an end to the drill and the team lowered their non-lethals

The team hastily made their way over to Spike, who had rolled over onto his back.

"Spike?" Ed asked with worry in his voice as he knelt down next to him. Of course he was fine-it was just a rubber bullet- but he still worried. Spike gave him a sheepish grin and extended his hand for some help to get up.

"God, those things sting like a bitch," he said with a laugh as Ed pulled him to his feet.

"You sure you're good?" Sarge asked.

"Absolutely."

"Sam?" Sarge asked, expecting him to be behind him. There was no response and everyone immediately looked around. Sam was standing right where they had left him.

He was looking at the ground and it was clear he was shaking, even from 50 feet away.

Jules was the first to realize what was happening. She covered her mouth with her hand. She turned to look at Greg.

"Matt," she said breathlessly, horrified.

Greg closed his eyes with a sad, quick sigh. Sam had just shot his teammate. Again. Everyone jogged over to him and the team held their distance while Jules and Greg continued to approach him, arriving at a safe distance away from Sam. He showed no awareness to their presence.

The look in his eyes was unlike anything Jules had ever seen before. His typically steely, determined blue eyes were glazed over with a sad fog as they darted around, unsure of what exactly was in front of them. His breathing was fast and erratic. He was pale with a light sheen of sweat over his face, despite the cold temperature.

He was murmuring something and it suddenly grew into shouting at the ground.

"No. NO. YOU TOLD ME I WAS CLEAR. YOU TOLD ME. WHY? WHY DID YOU?" he yelled as his voice cracked. And with that, his words slowly started to shrink back to murmuring. "No, no, it- it was clear. You said."

The pistol he was holding at his side fell out of his weak hand and tumbled onto the ground. Tears were gathering in his eyes.

Jules looked at Sarge with a mix of fear and bewilderment. Sarge responded with a nod.

"Sam?" Sarge called to him, "Can you talk to me buddy?" With no response, he tried again. "Sam. Look at me," he directed firmly, stepping closer. Maybe the command appealed to Sam's soldier roots, because his head popped up, but his gaze still wandered.

"Sam?" Jules tried this time. Immediately his eyes locked onto Jules. "Sam, you're okay," She soothed quickly. "You're at SRU headquarters. We're just doing a training exercise. Spike is okay. You're okay. _Everyone_ is okay," she reiterated slowly, hoping to bring him out of his flashback. Some of the fog lifted from his eyes but the sadness only became heavier.

"Jules?" He questioned in a small voice. Jules began to walk carefully toward him.

"Yes it's me, Sam. You're alright."

"I didn't... I can't..." He sputtered, his posture relaxing. He looked up at Jules with the heaviness twisting into weakness. As she was closing the distance between them, he took an uncoordinated step forward with a hand outstretched to her.

"Okay—" She picked up speed and crashed into him as she reached him. She slid her arms under his, trying to help him to his knees. The rest of the team now began to rush over as he continued to fall, Jules struggling to take his weight. Greg arrived first.

"Okay, alright," he comforted as he strained, taking on the dead weight. Together, he and Jules lowered him onto the ground, laying him on his side. The team looked on, kneeling down with them.

Wordy stepped aside, speaking softly into his radio, "Winnie, we need a medic in the training building—Sam's down."

Winnie immediately responded.

"They're on the way to you."

Greg looked back at Wordy and gave him an appreciative nod. Wordy returned it.

Jules felt Sam's muscles tighten and knew what was coming next. She grasped his shoulder and leaned him forward a bit, placing her other hand on his back just before he started to gag.

He threw up very little and mostly just dry heaved. Jules kept her grip on him firm, knowing that a grounding presence would be most comforting to him.

"It's alright sweetheart," Jules said quietly in his ear, "It's going to be okay."


End file.
